Loneliness is New York’s leitmotif. This feeling is palpable everywhere in New York City—a place filled with 8 million people, many of whom are immigrants and transplants. There are different shades of it: the loneliness of an Uber driver who fled Venezuela, leaving his family behind, who sighs with relief when I quickly switch to Spanish; the loneliness that emanates from the people I talk to on dating apps; the loneliness of the middle-aged Ukrainian woman at my local supermarket, who tells me in Russian that I remind her of her son, who she left behind in a war-torn country and who she hasn’t seen in two years.
Finally, the loneliness of someone who doesn’t believe in a god, someone who is slowly starting to come to terms with the fundamental randomness and uncertainty in our world. All of these real people exist on the margins of the fast-paced world that is New York.
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